September 22, 2004

I didn't know the sun could be this bright. The outside is actually yellow today. It's the color of the sun as artists paint it--that yellow orb contrasting blue.

The tree leaves, still moist and deep green from so much rain, are yellow-coated with sun. The sky is unending.

It's the kind of day that scares me.

I have never been a fan of the beautiful day. Good people don't get buried on beautiful days. They get buried on rainy messy muddy days, with tents over open graves as the sky weeps without shame.

I used to say I was a bat.

I liked it grey and drizzly. If I could have hung upside down from a bedpost, I would have slept that way. Fortunately, I never tried. That's the kind of thing you get committed for. Ah well.

So, today, in its very shocking yellow brightness, has me paralyzed. I have a mound and a half of work to begin. I have, in fact, four brochures and a web site that need a smart brain and fast hands to write them.

Me? I'm staring at all that yellow out the window.

I consider the advice my husband gave me a week ago: "Go outside. Just go outside and walk."

Easy for him to say. He's not so scared of all that yellow.

The pressure of pretty days wears on me. The pressure to feel happy and light, to want to go sailing or hiking, to want to do anything really, is more than I can stand. Especially when I have perseverating about work to do.